


Missing Rainbows

by fitzsimmons_with_prosciutto



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Army, Blue - Freeform, Colours, Death, F/M, Jary - Freeform, John POV, Love, Molly - Freeform, Mycroft Holmes - Freeform, Sad, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlolly - Freeform, angsty, shortfic, soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzsimmons_with_prosciutto/pseuds/fitzsimmons_with_prosciutto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where you only see colours once you met your soulmate, John doesn't understand how Sherlock can match his clothes. Character death. Sherlolly. I suck at summaries but i saw this prompt on tumblr and wanted to give it a try. Would be nice if you guys could R&R :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Rainbows

To John, Sherlock always looked impeccable. He didn't understand how. He wasn't supposed to know how to match colours.

He couldn't see them, anyway.

<><><><><><><><><>

John first saw red.

It burned.

And then he saw blue. And then lilac, and green, and yellow, and pink, and infinite shades, and he almost cried.

It was nothing like the teachers told him it would be.

"Like a missing piece of you was found, like you can see everything more clearly now. Like it all makes sense"

They forgot the gut-wrenching beauty of it all.

"I'm Mary. Nice to meet you."

<><><><><><><><><><>

In school, they teach you how it's going to be.

You will be born colour blind.

You will only see black and white and countless shades of grey, until you meet The Person.

He always thought the word "soulmate" was too exaggerated (until he met her, and then it wasn't enough).

You can always recognize the ones that Saw already. They match clothes, they gaze at sunsets longer, they buy specific colours, they have favourites, they laugh a little longer, they smile a little brighter, they cry a little louder.

They are more intense with their crazy palette of colours.

<><><><><><><><><>

When John met Mary, when he Saw her, the first colour that caught his eye was red, the bright red of her blouse.

He loved it.

<><><><><><><><><>

After weeks of living with Sherlock, John thinks he understands now.

Maybe Sherlock once Saw, and then she died.

Maybe that's why his eyes faltered when John drunkly asked him what his favourite colour was (a common question between Seers) and John could've swore he saw his lips forming the syllable of something, of blue scrubs or brown eyes or burgundy jumpers.

But Sherlock never opens his lips and John convinces himself that he must have imagined it all.

Sherlock can't see colours. He can't. He will never see them.

He said so himself.

<><><><><><><><><>

"I can't see them, John. I can't love anyone properly. I'm not good for anyone. Why would nature play such a cruel game as to make someone love me?"

And John wonders if what he hears late that night in between aggressive violin concertos are sobs.

<><><><><><><><><>

When John first met Sherlock, he was confused.

He couldn't put him in a group.

His clothes matched, he had a favourite colour (blue, always blue, everything was blue).

But his smile, the rare, occasional smile, never met his eyes. His laugh was never heard of. He gave John the impression that he saw all the colours, but from a different world, one only Sherlock knew.

He seems lost in there.

<><><><><><><><><>

John had only once met someone that had Seen and then lost it. It was one of his army mates.

He was chatting with someone, he can't remember who, when suddenly there was a scream.

It froze him to his core. It sounded bestial.

But it was Ollie Ackerman, running aimlessly to open field. Ollie grabbed Archie Campbell by the collar of his shirt and some other men pulled him away.

John saw that he was crying.

"LYDIAAA!!!!!!!" he cried out, falling to his knees, his hands covering the fading tones of his friends faces.

No one needed to ask what had happened.

The realization that Ollie Ackerman could feel the love of his life dying from so many miles away kept them all petrified in the sandstorm of pleads and lydias.

Who would want to be next?

<><><><><><><><><>

When John meets the pathologist, he is sure that she Saw already. He could bet on it.

But when he asks her who is the lucky fella, she gives him the saddest smile and says that she doesn't have one.

John never realises how Sherlock hands are a little more unsteady in the morgue, or that they both have a weird predilection for the exact same shade of blue. Instead, he thinks that Molly Hooper's eyes are the prettiest, warmest brown eyes he'd ever seen. It never once crosses his mind why it looks like she is analysing Sherlock's every move with them.

<><><><><><><><><>

In the middle of a case, a dangerous one, one that Sherlock didn't let him tag along for the outcome, he is hastily sent to the morgue by his weirdly anxious friend.

Sherlock never paces, or cracks his knuckles, or lick his lips. Sherlock is calm and collected. Always.

But this time, this time Sherlock does something that for anyone else would be considered begging, but not for him, no, never for him. Sherlock Holmes doesn't beg.

"John. Go to Bart's. Stay there until I personally tell you to come home."

"But Sherlock why w-"

"And don't let Molly leave the building."

There's a "please" and a "thank you" hidden somewhere in those blue eyes of his.

<><><><><><><><><><>

On his wedding day, Molly asks him.

"John", she says sheepishly, "do you think the Colours could be one-sided?"

In the foggy happiness that surrounds him, he doesn't read the true meaning of the question. He doesn't come up with the answer he should have.

"All I know is that I love Mary more than she could ever love me!" and he laughs because it's funny, it's a joke.

But it isn't and she thinks he means it.

John doesn't realise that her dress is the same colour as his eyes.

<><><><><><><><><><>

"Sherlock for Christ's sake you said 999! I thought it was an emergency! It's two in the morning, for the love of God! I left Mary alone with the baby!"

John is tired and he doesn't see the pile of broken plates in the kitchen or the plethora of bullet wounds in the wall.

Sherlock says he is sorry to disturb and that he should go home and John doesn't notice that he is not wearing his blue robe.

Later that day, in unrelated news, Greg mentions that Molly got engaged. John says he is happy for her and wishes her the best of rainbows.

He doesn't realise that suddenly Sherlock's clothes don't match so much anymore.

<><><><><><><><><><>

It's Mycroft that gives him the hint.

"I envy Sherlock for one thing and one thing only."

And John sits still and waits for him to tell him.

But Mycroft never does. Instead, he stares longingly out of the window of the moving car. He whispers the words so softly that John wonders if he didn't imagine it.

And John thinks how sad it must be that when Mycroft wakes up in the morning and looks in the mirror, his blue eyes don't stare back at him.

"It's all grey to me."

<><><><><><><><><><>

"John" Sherlock says in a weirdly embarrassed way. Sherlock was never shy. Never for the life of him. "What is your favourite colour?"

And it's such a common question, one that he hears everyday, as much as "the weather's been crazy huh?" or "how is the mrs doing?" that he just answers it mechanically, always the same answer.

"Red. And yours?" When Sherlock stares him intrigued instead of answering, John remembers.

Ow bloody hell.

"Sorry mate, I forgot. Sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright John. I'm fine without them".

And John doesn't realise how Sherlock holds his cup of tea with a slightly tighter grip now.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

When Sherlock disappears for a whole week, John begins to get restless.

Where is his best mate?

He asks Mycroft and he simply replies: "Sherlock never dealt with things the easy way."

As much as John agrees, he still wants to know where the bloody hell is Sherlock.

Greg tells him Molly ended her engagement.

Sherlock shows up the next day.

He is smiling bright.

"Missed me, John?"

<><><><><><><><><><>

It's morning when it happens.

Sherlock almost knocks the door down and John is at a lost of words for his behaviour. He had never seen him like this.

"They are all gone John, they are all gone!" he repeats completely distraught, scaring Mary and Poppy in the kitchen.

Uncle Sherlock never yelled and Uncle Sherlock never broke things on purpose.

John doesn't understand what's happening and he asks Sherlock who are they, what is he saying, what happened?!

Sherlock closes his eyes and covers them with shaky hands.

"They are all gone John, all gone" this is all he manages to say, for minutes on end, sitting on John's living room floor.

When the phone rings, Mary answers it.

It's Mycroft and he simply asks what colour is the shirt Sherlock is wearing.

When Mary answers "yellow", Mycroft hangs up the phone and shows up at the door in 15 minutes flat.

When he takes Sherlock to the car, he looks almost pitiful.

<><><><><><><><><><>

At the funeral, John wonders who would have the heart to shoot Molly Hooper over a purse. Their friend was the most dangerous company of all, and in the end, she was killed over 25 pounds, half a pack of maltesers and cat food.

The irony hit him like a guillotine.

Sherlock doesn't show up to the funeral and he is not there when they bury her.

Instead, he knocks on John's door hours later, his eyes red and his hair a mess. He was holding a battalion of loosen ties in his hands.

"I don't know which one of them is the blue one" he sounds so devastated that John doesn't even question it, doesn't even question why he needs blue or why is he so moved by the death of a lab buddy, at best. Instead, John picks a blue tie from the pile he is holding.

"Thank you" he says "she was happier when I wore blue".

And the pieces of the puzzle fit together so loudly and so abruptly that John gasps at the sight of infinite blue shirts and endless blue jumpers and deviated eyes and questions never asked.

He thinks of Ollie Ackerman as he notices Sherlock's mismatching socks.

<><><><><><><><><><>


End file.
